


a little space striptease

by graveExcitement (arachnids)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Gen, Strip Tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:19:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arachnids/pseuds/graveExcitement
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk puts on a little show for a friend, but certain articles of clothing prove difficult.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a little space striptease

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tortoisegirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tortoisegirl/gifts).
  * Inspired by [A Little Show Among Friends](https://archiveofourown.org/works/349709) by [tortoisegirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tortoisegirl/pseuds/tortoisegirl). 



“Of all the things I expected you to include on your fancy spaceship, Dirk,” says Jane, “a huge panoramic window wasn’t one of them.”

Dirk shrugs. “I figured, hey, I’m building a fucking starship. With which I am going to go to space. Be a shame if I didn’t give myself the opportunity to appreciate the fabled view.”

Jane glances out the window, then turns back to Dirk. “I hardly think a fabled view of the Batterwitch’s great ship is necessary.”

True to her words, the scarlet Battleship Condescension looms in the distance - though as far as space goes, it isn’t very distant at all. Dirk snorts. “Not exactly something I had planned for, you understand.”

“Of course.” She steps over to one of the many computers embedded into the walls, tables, floors, and every other cavity possible within the ship. She studies the monitor for awhile until Dirk gives a long, drawn-out sign and interrupts her.

“Don’t bother with that,” he says. The monitor, as with most of the other unnecessary computers of the ship, displays strings of words, sometimes sensical, oftentimes not. “It’s some weird side-effect of letting Autoresponder hook up to the ship. I figured fixing it wasn’t exactly a priority, not when it’s harmless. None of the essential machines do this.” He scowls momentarily. “Which is good evidence to support my current theory that AR’s just fucking with me.”

“Well, it’s interesting anyways.”

The makeshift tour of the Loquaciousness ends there, for the Battleship Condescension lies in wait and there are still more weapons systems to be configured.

“Are you sure we need this many rocket launchers?” Jane asks, eyebrow raised.

“Of course,” Dirk says, not missing a beat. “It’s for an experiment. I’m testing a proposed fundamental law of the universe: namely, that no matter how much firepower you bring to the table, Jake English will bring more. It’s a logical certainty.”

She snickers. “The funny thing is, it’s probably true.”

“Damn straight. But I want to prove my theory. Scientific method, y’know? Roxy approves, I informed her of it last night. For a given value of ‘night’, anyways, when the amount of light present in our living space is no longer determined by the current rotational space of the Earth.”

“You’re being especially verbose,” Jane observes.

“Hmm... Yes,” Dirk agrees. “I suppose we should talk about it, lay everything on the table -”

“Along with the rocket launchers?”

He waves a hand. “I said everything, didn’t I? Anyways, so, laying everything on the table, bring that elephant fully into this cramped room, watch as he breaks the table...”

Jane nudges him, and he concludes with, “About Jake.”

“About our.... various romantic prospects with him, you mean.”

Dirk shrugs. “Prospects, hopes, longings, lustings, whatever you’d like to call it.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think I just may have blown my chances with him. In characteristic Crocker fashion.”

“I hope that wasn’t aimed to make me feel better. It would truly be tragic if neither of us got to touch his hot bod.” His face is expressionless, at least until the slightest smirk slips through the cracks in his veneer. Jane snorts.

“I hardly think you’ll have a problem, Dirk.”

“Au contraire.” He gestures towards the window, and what lies in wait beyond it. “This whole ‘fishtroll bent on complete dominance of the Earth’ thing is seriously hampering my stride.

She giggles. “Not much room to stride in space.”

“Unless you’re the Batterwitch, apparently.” He sighs. “Another universal law: no matter how big you try to make a spacecraft, it still inevitably ends up being cramped as hell inside.”

“Unless you’re the Batterwitch, apparently,” Jane parrots, and the two break into giggles.

“Seriously, though,” Dirk says, a little while later. “No matter which one of us happens to win Jake’s romantic affections, I promise that I will maintain our friendship.”

“I would have expected no less from you, Dirk.”

They sit comfortably in silence for a minute, until Dirk grumbles, “You’d think that an adventure in space would be a good setting for romantic gestures, at least when Jake’s involved.” He grimaces. “In reality, all sorts of things get in the way, even without an alien overlord to fight.” He contemplates the issue. “If all else fails, I can go for a good old-fashioned striptease.”

“Very traditional,” Jane comments. “Jake would appreciate it.”

Dirk makes a noise of agreement. “It occurs to me, though,” he says slowly, “that I am a bit out of practice.”

“Practice? What,” and then Dirk is standing before her, hands on his hips. “Are you seriously proposing to practice on me?”

“There’s not much more to be done, preparations-wise,” he says. “What’s a little space striptease between friends?” He raises an eyebrow lasciviously, then ruins the image by snorting.

Jane rolls her eyes, but Dirk reaches for the zipper of his jumpsuit and slowly drags it down until it is at waist level. She throws her arm over her eyes, but he says, “I do hope Jake won’t respond that way.”

She lowers her arm, and he starts to peel off his bright orange jumpsuit, designed to fit all his space needs while also not being as ridiculous-looking and combat-inhibiting as an actual spacesuit. It is also the precise color of his text; Jane’s jumpsuit is the same. 

Taking the constricting jumpsuit off is not a particularly easy task, and he struggles to remove just one of his arms from the skintight suit. “Gah!” he yelps, nearly falling over in his attempt to remove it.

Jane breaks out into a fit of giggles, and Dirk, who has managed to half remove one arm from his jumpsuit, does so as well, flopping down beside her.

“Something tells me,” she finally says, “that you should probably try stripping with some more cooperative clothing.”

He smiles. “I suppose so.” They gaze out the window, and he adds, “But I guess we have more to worry about before then.” 

The Batterwitch lies in wait, and they will need every advantage they can get to stand a chance against her; for now, though, Dirk and Jane relax, and laugh.


End file.
